


Candles Burning Bright

by audrey1nd



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Celebrations, Christmas, Gen, Hanukkah, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5470913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audrey1nd/pseuds/audrey1nd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Kennex is not the grinch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candles Burning Bright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swtalmnd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swtalmnd/gifts).



> Hope you enjoy this little glimpse into John's secret traditions.

Rudy popped up from underneath his work table, Santa hat on his head and a giant candy cane in one hand. 

“Happy Christmas!” he exclaimed, and John grimaced in return.

“Sure,” John replied. 

“Come on, really? You can’t hate everything!” Rudy exclaimed in disappointment.

John sighed. “This is a place of work, Rudy.”

“I agree,” Dorian said, coming up behind John. “Religious holidays like Christmas should not be celebrated in the workplace. While there are many holidays around this time of year, the prevalence of Christmas in both celebrations and decorations does tend to invalidate any arguments of fair representation.”

“See?” John huffed. 

“Spoil-sport,” Rudy whined, taking off his hat. “So, what do you need?”

“It seems that the holiday – “ Dorian started before John cuff him off.

“Santa crime ring caught stealing cred donations for charity. Nothing more selfish than people during the holidays.”

“Well I wouldn’t say that,” Rudy protested. “After all, these Santa’s are stealing because of donations.”

“Eh, that’s just because of guilt. You know what they’re like, you can’t even walk down the street without getting harassed for a donation. People give in eventually.”

“I can confirm. Statistics show that 65% of people polled in an anonymous survey said that they gave to charity due to feeling guilty,” Dorian interjected.

“See?” John said, pointing at Dorian. “People are selfish this time of year, which is why the charities are able to make them feel guilty.”

Rudy sighed and pulled the top off the giant candy cane, putting a mini candy cane in his mouth, grumbling. “So what do you need from me?” he asked.

“I am in need of a more powerful processor in order to track down all of the creds that have gone missing and see where they have been spent,” Dorian explained.

“Well then, let’s get started,” Rudy said as Dorian came over so that Rudy could access his data port.

Dorian’s eyes went blank as he ran the data, leaving John to stare grumpily at Rudy as he sucked on his candy cane.

“How do you hate Christmas?” Rudy inquired.

“Never said I did,” John shrugged. “Just said this was a place of work.”

Rudy sighed and then crunched on his candy cane, finishing it off. There was just the sound of his crunching until Dorian jerked back to life. 

“The credits were all spent in one section of the city. It seems that these Santas did not have a very fast sleigh like the myth they are impersonating,” Dorian joked.

Rudy and John groaned at the terrible joke. “Come on Dorian, let’s go,” John saluted Rudy as he herded Dorian out of the room.

 

John and Dorian pulled up outside a large shopping area milling with people. They walked through the crush, John grumbling as they did so. They passed a number of people in various Santa, elf, and themed costumes as they went, Dorian shaking his head each time they passed by. John let Dorian take the lead, keeping his distance so that none of the collectors would try to talk to him directly, in addition to their general cries for donations.

Finally, after the second row of collection buckets, Dorian paused, turning to John. “That man matches the description and footage of the bad Santas.”

John approached the Santa, letting him start talking to him directly and making as if he was going to donate before showing his badge. The Santa tried to run, but Dorian had snuck behind him and grabbed him before he could do more than back away.

Almost no one around them even noticed the altercation, all hurrying around their own business, hands full or avidly working to ignore the donation collectors.

 

John sighed as he opened the door to his apartment. With the Santa in custody they’d been able to track down the fake charity and connect it to a number of Santas working throughout the city, shutting down their ability to transfer credits. Of course, as usual, it only led to a bigger case as the Santas weren’t working alone, but wasn’t that the way it always went?

The twinkle lights in his apartment turned on as he entered his living room, giving his apartment a cozy glow. John sat down heavily on his sofa, massaging his leg like he usually did when he got home.

But he didn’t pull up his case files like usual. Instead, he set his projector to show a yule log, which simulated the heat of a fire as well as the image. John sighed as he closed his eyes for just a minute while he rested his leg before getting up to go to the kitchen.

He got out a saucepan and turned on the stove, breaking up a chocolate bar and dropping the pieces into the pan. John poured the milk in and stirred, breathing in the smell of the chocolate as he sprinkled in some cinnamon. The recipe had been his grandmother’s and he had learned it from her as a child. It was one of his favorite things about this holiday season. He left the mixture to finish heating and opened a cabinet and took down a small box. He opened the box, revealing an object wrapped in old and yellowing tissue paper. John parted the tissue paper gingerly, revealing a small metal menorah. The finish had worn away in some places, indicating its age, but it was well-polished and without any candle residue. 

John took the menorah out of the box and placed in on his counter. He removed two sticks from the box, twisting them before putting them in the menorah. The false flames of the candles flickered where he’d placed them, and John smiled slightly to himself as he looked at it.

John took a mug out of his cabinet, turning off the stove as he poured the now almost boiling mixture into the mug.

 

John sighed contentedly as he sipped from the mug of hot chocolate before slipping a candy cane into his mouth. Even with everything going on, John still had this. His grandmother’s cocoa, the menorah from his father, a nice (though fake) fire going, and a box of candy canes. But this was private and just for him, not for anyone else. He might visit the Recollectionist for his memories of Anna, but he didn’t need it for these memories. The Christmas tree that his mother would set up while his father sang holiday songs and played dreidel with John, the pile of gelt never getting any bigger, though the pile of gold foil always would. John changed the channel, and the opening notes of _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ began to play.


End file.
